


One Thing Left to Do

by idiotbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Married Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotbrothers/pseuds/idiotbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean, a spur-of-the-moment proposal, and an old memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thing Left to Do

"Wait, you’ve fucked other guys before?" Sam glanced up, looking surprised at the question. "Yeah. This is news to you?"

Dean swallowed, trying to ignore how uncomfortable he was getting at the image of Sam with innumerable faceless college boys, how stupid he felt for being bothered by it in the first place. "I think I definitely would’ve remembered you mentioning that you’re gay," Dean said, voice involuntarily sounding snippy. Sam squinted judgmentally at him. "Okay, first off—I’m not gay, I’m bi. I would’ve thought you’d be able to put that together. And second, what are you getting jealous for? I had to wash your come out of my hair like two seconds ago."

Dean frowned, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth as something swelled in him when he looked at Sam, impatient and blistered. “Marry me, Sam.” Sam dropped his crossword puzzle, eyes huge and mouth agape. “ _What_?”

"Yeah," Dean said, more confidently as the idea took proper root inside him, knocking something into place. "Yeah, you heard me right. I’m being serious—You’re it for me, dipshit. Let’s get married." 

"Holy fuck. You’re—you’re not kidding." Sam’s voice wobbled a little, and he swallowed, shaking his hair out of his face. "What’s gotten into you, man? Saying stuff like that on the spot…"

"Sam, this isn’t some bullshit whim, okay?" He grabbed one of Sam’s hands, staring into his eyes and hoping he was getting across how much this meant to him, even though he’d only really realized he wanted it a couple minutes ago. "Wait, so, we’re talking about the fact that I slept with guys at Stanford and that suddenly makes you decide you wanna  _get married_? Dean, I’m really not following here.”

"Sam," Dean sighed, dropping a kiss to his knuckles, "There’s nothing to over-think. I don’t just want this out of some creepy need to monopolize you, or whatever it is you’re thinking. We could go on exactly like we always have, if that’s what you really want—no exclusivity necessary—but I feel like this could be good for us, especially in the long run." Sam blinked. "How?"

"It’s like, symbolic, or some shit," Dean said, trailing a finger over Sam’s cheek. "You mean the fuckin’ world to me, okay? I could go the rest of my life without touching anyone but you ever again, and I’d be totally cool with it." He blushed as he said it, clearing his throat awkwardly and hoping that that hadn’t been overkill, but Sam looked like he had a lump in his throat, eyes shining. 

"You don’t have to do that, geez. I don’t think your libido could take it," Sam said, shaking his head. "I’d live," Dean assured him, grinning now that Sam seemed to be warming up to the marriage thing. "Also, y’know, there’s all the government benefits. We could seal the deal in Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or something. We’d be more financially stable than we’ve ever been. You could go back to school."

"Dean…"

"You  _could_.” 

"Somehow I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with coursework from the passenger seat of the car."

"Dude," Dean said, tightening his grip on Sam’s hand. "Don’t you get it? I’m asking you to  _settle down_  with me. I’m telling you I’m one hundred and ten percent up for it, if it’ll make you happy. ‘Cause you haven’t been properly happy in fucking  _years_. I wanna fix that. I wanna fix  _us_.”

Sam’s other hand was clasped to his mouth now, tears beginning to course down his cheeks. “What the hell, Dean, you can’t just spring shit like this on me out of nowhere. This isn’t like you at all.”

"Don’t get too used to it," Dean said. "Once the honeymoon phase is up I’ll probably morph right back into a repressed bastard." He was riding some kind of crazy high right now, feeling like he could tell Sam  _anything_ , pour his fucking heart out to him and be glad to have done it. He’d never felt like that before. Dean cupped the back of Sam’s head, stroked his hand through his hair affectionately. “I love you. I’ve always acted like we don’t have to say it, but fuck that. I love you so goddamn much.”

"We’re brothers," Sam gasped out, "Brothers can’t get married." Dean shrugged, leaning in to kiss the corner of Sam’s mouth as he answered, "So we’ll use fake names,  _duh_. Probably would be a good idea anyway, considering our criminal records.”

"God, Dean," Sam whispered, sucking in a wet breath as Dean kissed a line up his neck, hands clutched in the front of his shirt. "Yes, okay? I’ll do it. My answer’s yes."

"Fuck yeah," Dean said, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed loving kisses to Sam’s tear-streaked cheeks, pausing only to draw him into a crushing hug. "So, d-do you…did you get a ring, or…?" It was most likely Sam’s shaky attempt at a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but Dean suddenly remembered something, leapt out of his chair and bent down to give Sam a quick peck on the lips before saying, "Wait here," and bolting for his own room.

He pulled his old duffel bag out of his closet and dug around inside one of the inner pockets until he’d found what he was looking for, speed-walking back to Sam’s room and instructing, "Hold your hand out." Sam did so, looking utterly flabbergasted as Dean slipped a ring onto his pinky finger. He’d been worried it wouldn’t fit even Sam’s smallest finger, considering how gigantic his hands had gotten since he’d last worn it, but it slid on easily, much to Dean’s satisfaction.

"Dean…is this—"

"Uh-huh. Could never really bring myself to throw it away."

Sam’s eyes started watering all over again as he stared at the ring, a cheap little rhinestone-studded bauble that Dean had gotten for Sam in a vending machine capsule when they were kids. "You’re such a fucking romantic," Sam said, even as his voice was breaking and he was gazing at Dean so fondly that Dean started kissing him again, breathing, "I’ll buy you an actual ring tomorrow," into Sam’s mouth and smiling when Sam yanked him closer and held his face between his hands, cold metal of the ring pressed against Dean’s right cheek. 

* * *

  _Dean shut the door behind him after he’d set his bags of groceries on the floor of their motel room, locking out the icy winter air and shrugging off his coat. As he did so, the toy capsule he’d gotten from the vending machine at the supermarket fell out, and he bent over to pick it up, tucking it securely into the pocket of his jeans._

_He was planning on giving it to a girl he liked at school—Jemma Cabrera with the waves of sleek brown hair and the dimpled smile—so he couldn’t lose it. Peeking his head into the bedroom, Dean found Sam sitting at the foot of the bed they shared, looking mopey and dejected, his small hands curled into fists. “Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, walking in and jumping onto the mattress next to his brother. “What’s with the face?”_

_Sam frowned in his general direction, but leaned against him all the same, reaching one hand out to grip his shirt. “You’re gone too much,” he said, eyes beginning to glisten. “You n’ Dad.”_

_"Aw, Sam," Dean said, ruffling his hair, "I tried to make it quick this time. You’re getting older, y’know? Soon you’ll be_ happy _when we leave you alone.” Sam shook his head rapidly and buried his face in Dean’s chest, breaking into a muffled sob. Dean wrapped his arms around him, whispering an apology into the top of his head and wishing he could cheer him up somehow._

_Struck with a sudden idea, Dean tugged the capsule out of his pocket and drew back so he could put it in Sam’s palm, curling his brother’s fingers around it. “Here, Sammy. Got you a present.” Sam sniffed and rubbed at his eyes, brightening a little and saying, “_ Really _, Dean? Is it really for me?”_

_"Yeah," Dean said. "Here, I’ll open it for you." He popped it open and deposited the ring into his palm, smiling to himself when Sam’s eyes got huge at the sight of it, its white rhinestones gleaming prettily in the lamplight. Dean slid it over Sam’s ring finger, laughing when it slid right off again, much to Sam’s chagrin. He tried it on Sam’s thumb instead, where it stayed put._  

_Sam held up his hand and stared at it, awe-struck, and Dean was smugly pleased at how much he seemed to like it. "Thanks, Dean," Sam finally said, beaming at him and giving him a tight hug. "Love you," he added, and Dean felt warm all over, affection for his kid brother widening his grin._

_"Love you too, dweeb."_

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Marry Me" by Train.


End file.
